Two other men lounged in the dilapidated waiting room. The one seated near the register was the leader. He had direct line of sight on the door—always a power position, as any good feng shui consultant will tell you. He was Asian, his hair short and spiky and dyed blue on the tips. Colorful tattoos swirled underneath his thin white T-shirt, peeking through the V-neck and flowing down both arms to his wrists. A bright blue apron appeared with the words Kiss the Chef embroidered in black. I hadn’t a clue what that meant, but it helped me relax enough to notice he was a few years younger than me and had a good jawline and sharp, tilted eyes. Definitely the most handsome man in the room. Or maybe it was his attire; I was a sucker for a man in jeans and a white T-shirt.
The final man was Samoan, big, and wearing a basketball jersey. His tattoos were black and tribal. Handsome in a giant sort of way, his arm muscles made the leader’s look like spaghetti. Perfect. His pink-feathered princess tiara was a bonus.
“Please tell me you came in to get sleeves,” the leader said. He strode over to me, hand extended. “I’m Mark Kim.” I reached to shake hands, but he lifted my hand out in front of me, turning it back and forth as he examined my arm. “Luminescent. Flawless. The art I could ink on you, girl. Are you Canadian? Icelandic?”
“LA born and raised. This is the power of sunscreen.” Vats and vats of it.
“A redhead without freckles. That’s rare.”
“It’s a family blessing,” I said. “But I’m not here for a tattoo.”
“Are you sure? What about a half sleeve? Maybe a little something on your shoulder blade?” His eyes scanned down my body to my bare legs. “A little ankle adornment?”
I shook my head, smiling, and freed myself. He let me go easily and stepped back.
“I’d know if you were here for a homeboy,” he said.
“You can be here for me, baby,” Ski Mask said, shifting his belt buckle suggestively.
“Hmm. How much can you bench?”
“One fifty,” he answered with a swagger.
“Kind of a lightweight, aren’t you?”
“Oooh, snap,” the older man beside him said. Ski Mask glared at the laughing men.
“But still stronger than me,” I acknowledged. “And I’ve got a little problem that needs more muscle than I have.”
It took surprisingly little to convince the men to follow me back to the trailer. I introduced Hudson as Tim and myself as April, something Hudson and I had agreed upon as a precaution.
“We need your help lifting a little cargo from the trailer to the Suburban,” I said.
Mark shot me a sharp glance.
“Cargo?”
I gestured to the trailer. The men jumped onto the running board on either side of the wheels and peered inside. The trailer tilted alarmingly. Kyoko bugled.
“Holy shit! It’s an elephant!” was the general sentiment.
“It needs to be an elephant in a Suburban,” I said once they’d gotten over their shock and Kyoko had snuffled all their hands with her trunk.
“Dude, where did you get an elephant?” Plaid Shirt asked.
“Trade secret,” I said. Hudson shrugged.
“That’s not legal. I know that’s not legal,” the Samoan said.
“It flirts with the law a little,” I conceded.
The big guy grinned at me.
Hudson backed the Suburban up to the trailer and I swung the trailer’s door wide, tossing some carrots Hudson had purchased to the front of the trailer to distract Kyoko while we prepped. Mark popped the Suburban’s hatch open. Since the hatch didn’t clear the top of the trailer, we had to leave a three-foot gap between the trailer and the SUV. More than enough room for Kyoko to escape through. I pulled the trailer door flush with the Suburban to barricade my side, and the men did a pretty good job blocking the other side.
“What’s that smell?” the Samoan asked.
I pointed to the pile.
“This is a fine ride,” Mark said, running his fingers lightly over the Suburban’s glossy paint. He peered into the pristine carpeted back. Hudson had lowered the back set of seats, and even the exposed cracks were lint-free. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Positive.”
The men clustered around, rubbing chins and swinging their gazes from Kyoko to the Suburban and back.
“Whatever you do, don’t let her escape,” I said. I had a horrifying vision of Kyoko galloping off into traffic. Not only would that botch my agreement with Jenny and give her ample reason to follow through on her threat, but it would also endanger Kyoko. Blackmail or no blackmail, no animals were getting hurt on my watch.
I pulled a carrot from my pocket and stepped into the trailer. Kyoko finished the few I’d thrown in and eyed the open door. I skirted the offensive pile and looked up in time to see Kyoko trotting toward the opening. She barreled straight past my outspread arms and the offered carrot and tipped off the end of the trailer to the asphalt. It wasn’t graceful, and she had to catch herself with her trunk, but the moment she recovered, she swung toward the nearest man, Mark, and jabbed her trunk straight into his crotch. He squeaked and doubled over, falling back a step. The big Samoan beside him shimmied to the side.
“Whoa there, Kyoko,” Hudson said, stepping into the gap. “You okay, man?” he asked Mark over his shoulder.
The blue-haired man groaned through clenched teeth and nodded, clutching his crotch protectively.
“Okay, you step around her and get the other side,” Hudson instructed the Samoan.
“No way. You didn’t tell me it was a pervy elephant.”
“She’s not pervy,” I said. “That was an accident.”
“You afraid of a baby elephant?” Ski Mask taunted. He stepped to my side of the small opening. Of the four men, he was the one I wanted near me the least, but I held my ground. Kyoko prodded his calf, then ran her trunk up the inside of his leg. He jumped back just in time. “Shit, man. She is pervy!”
I sidestepped him and offered Kyoko a carrot, but she was more intrigued by the newcomers. Plaid Shirt scuttled backward when she reached for him. Kyoko followed. The Samoan, in his haste to avoid being felt up, hemmed Hudson against the trailer. Kyoko spied the open parking lot and freedom, and the men were forgotten. I lunged for Kyoko and grabbed her around the neck. The elephant dragged me two feet before she stopped, and then only because Hudson pushed in front of her.
We were almost beyond the side of the Suburban. Another step, and the world would see me hugging a baby elephant. Kyoko swung her head, agitated. Her trunk smacked me in the butt, and I yelped.
“She’s pervy with women, too,” Ski Mask said, snickering.
“Huh,” the Samoan said.
“Any day now, guys,” I said.
The Samoan finally stepped forward. “Hector, get your arms under her neck and front legs,” he said, gesturing to Plaid Shirt. “Tim, you and Xavier get her right side. I’ll take the left.”
Behind him, Mark braced his hands on his knees and nodded when the others looked to him for affirmation. Hudson joined Ski Mask on my side, Hector squatted to grab Kyoko’s neck, and the Samoan slid his arms under her belly. I let go, reaching for a carrot.
“On three,” Hudson said. “One, two, three.” They hoisted Kyoko a foot in the air.
Kyoko prodded Hector’s back, questing beneath the waistband of his sagging shorts and straight down the center of his crack.
“Those aren’t kiwis!” Hector shouted, springing away from Kyoko. Her trunk snapped free of Hector’s waistband, and she loosed an ear-blasting trumpet, dangling front legs flailing. The Samoan lurched back a step, catching the brunt of Kyoko’s squirming weight. In an awkward pyramid, the men tilted two steps back, then three forward.
I leapt for the Suburban, scrambling inside ahead of Kyoko, less concerned with flashing the men than I was with Kyoko’s safety. The elephant poked the hatch door, hooking her trunk on the lip. I grabbed the curled tip of her trunk and pulled her head down, trying not to
think about the agile appendage’s most recent location.
“A little help,” the Samoan said, teeth gritted.
“No way! That elephant molested me. It touched my cajones!”
“Man up.” Mark shoved Hector behind Kyoko. They each braced against a cheek and pushed from behind. The moment Kyoko’s front feet touched the carpeted Suburban, she bugled again and flailed with her back legs. Faces red with strain, the men shoved her the last two feet into the SUV. The tank-size vehicle tilted, groaning, before settling at a twenty-degree cant. Everyone staggered back and Hudson whisked shut the hatch, locking me inside with an irate elephant.
I threw myself over the row of seats in case Kyoko was in a trampling frame of mind. The roof cleared her head by less than a hand span. The sides weren’t much wider than her rotund belly. She tried to turn around, knocking her butt, then her head against the plastic-wrapped metal bracings. She plastered her cheeks against the rear window, and through the tinted glass, I saw the Samoan point and laugh. All the men scuttled to the side when the glass gritted in its mooring. I grabbed the last of the carrots and dumped them onto the carpet.
“It’s okay, girl. This won’t be for long,” I said, praying the Suburban would make it all the way to my aunt’s. I didn’t think Kyoko—or Hudson—would be up for doing this twice.
Kyoko slid the tip of her trunk along the window, then the back of the seat. I let her snuffle my hand and arm but leaned back when she went for my hair. There were limits to where I’d let her put that thing, especially since I knew her exploratory predilections.
She tilted her head back, trumpeted loud enough to rattle the windows, then reached for a carrot and stuffed it into her mouth.
I straightened my dress—how long had the top been that low?—then jumped out, ears ringing. I brushed hands down my body and winced at my knees rubbed red from the carpet and tender to the touch. Through the tinted windows, I could barely make out the hulking shape of Kyoko. Good. She shouldn’t attract attention.
Hudson paid the men. Hector looked wild-eyed, and he rubbed surreptitiously at his crack. When Xavier tried to razz him, Hector punched the younger man hard on the arm.
“Redheads and trouble go hand in hand,” Mark said, walking over to me after he pocketed Hudson’s money. “That’s what my father always said. But always worth it.” He winked and pressed a business card into my palm. I’d guessed correctly: He was the owner of the tattoo parlor. “Anytime you want, I’ll ink you wherever you want. On me.”
The group sauntered back to the strip mall. Mark limped, and he unabashedly massaged himself through his pants.
“What was that about?” Hudson asked.
“Apparently I have perfect skin,” I said. “And I can get free tattoos.”
“See. What’d I tell you? You didn’t see them offering me anything free. In fact, that cost me everything I had.”
I winced. “I’ll pay you back.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He went to the driver’s side and opened the passenger door. He pulled a bowl and a water bottle out of the plastic bag behind the seat, then crawled in and placed the bowl down on Kyoko’s side. I climbed into the front seat while he filled the bowl. I was more than ready to leave this parking lot.
The Suburban purred when Hudson turned over the engine. A trickle of cool air fed through the vents, circulating the smell of musty elephant. I adjusted the vents to angle back toward Kyoko.
“What about the truck?” I asked as we rolled past it. Even compared to the truck, the Suburban felt big—wide, long, and heavy. It fit a freaking elephant; that should say it all.
“The moment we find Jenny, we’ll tell her where it is,” Hudson said.
“And if it was stolen, what about evidence?” I’d read plenty of thrillers; I knew how forensics worked these days.
“I called work while I was driving back earlier. I had the same thought. They ran the plates for me. It’s registered to Edmond Zambo. I’m hoping he was the driver of the car Jenny got away in.”
“She had a getaway driver? How long has she been planning this?”
“You sure she doesn’t hold a grudge against you for something stupid in high school?”
I shook my head. “If so, I’m clueless. Wait, how does a security installation company run a plate?”
“EliteGuard is on good terms with the police. Wade, my boss, freelances for them sometimes.”
I filed that information away. “What about finding information on Jenny? Can they do that, too?” In a careful, controlled way that wouldn’t spook Jenny.
“Wade’s already on it.”
“What?” My heart jumped to my throat. If Hudson had told his boss about Kyoko, my life could already be over.
“I asked him to run a background check on her. I thought I’d better hold off on mentioning the elephant until we know what we’re dealing with.”
I eased out a breath and loosened my grip on the door handle. “Ah. Good thinking.”
Hudson merged back onto the 10. I twisted in my seat to watch Kyoko. The stop-and-go traffic had cleared while we’d been sitting in the parking lot, and Kyoko appeared as unfazed by the traffic ebbing around us as she was by going seventy miles an hour. I faced forward and straightened my skirt.
“Do you ever do that?” I asked. A van full of teenagers whipped around us and passed in the slow lane. No one took a second look at the Suburban.
“What?”
“Freelance for the police.”
“Not often. It’s not really my specialty.”
Water sloshed behind us. I twisted in time to see Kyoko lift a dripping trunk toward her mouth.
“Looks like she was thirsty. Good thinking on the bowl,” I said.
“Thanks.”
She reversed her trunk and curled it over her head. Water sprayed across the ceiling of the Suburban.
“Holy crap!”
Hudson yanked the rearview mirror into a new position. “Did she just . . . ?”
“Turn into a fountain? Yep.”
Kyoko sprayed herself again, and it sounded like a hurricane swirled through the back of the Suburban. Most of the water soaked the ceiling above her head. The thin fabric sagged, then it started raining. Kyoko dunked her trunk again.
“No!” I cried. “No, no, no, no.” I unbuckled my seat belt and twisted onto my knees. Hudson changed lanes, and I tipped into the center console. He grabbed for me, steadying me with a hand square on my ass. I clutched the back of the seat and shot him a look. His eyes remained glued to the road, but his hand lingered a fraction longer than necessary.
Kyoko doused the left side of the roof with water. She shifted, and the whole vehicle sagged to the right. Hudson compensated at the wheel. Water dripped to the carpet in soggy splats, and Kyoko bugled her delight. I clamped my hands over my ears. She ran her trunk along the roof, sending a spray of water across her face and leaving a furrow of mud.
I lunged over the center console again, but Hudson grabbed my arm.
“I need to get the water away from her,” I said.
“There’s no point now.”
Kyoko swung her trunk, smacking into the window. It vibrated but held.
“What’s the elephant safety rating of these windows?” I asked.
“Substandard, I’m guessing.”
Kyoko dipped her trunk into the bowl but came up dry. She reached for the roof and plucked the loosened fabric with the tip of her trunk. Droplets splattered me, and I lurched back, half sitting on the dash. The stain of water on the roof bloated outward and tunneled in rivulets down the ceiling toward the back door. Fat drops hammered the carpet and drummed on the leather seats. Kyoko prodded the inky ceiling, turning in tight steps to chase the rivulets. Her rough hindquarters slid along the side of the Suburban. A seat belt caught on her back leg and stretched with ominous clicks. Another shuffled step, and it ricocheted back to the plastic panel with a loud crack. I winced.
At a turn in the freeway, Kyoko sat on the edge o
f the window frame. The door groaned. Hudson lurched for the electronic lock button and the locks slammed home in surround sound. Kyoko stood and shuffled until she had her back to us, her trunk pressed to the rear window, making slimy patterns in the trails of water.
I shared a horrified look with Hudson.
“Did that just happen?”
He sprouted a silver top hat; Baltic Avenue draped his chest.
I dropped my forehead to the headrest. Thanks to Hurricane Kyoko, I may have just purchased my first vehicle. My meager savings evaporated in my mind’s eye.
A groan of leather brought my head up. Kyoko pressed her butt against the back of the second row of seats and leaned her weight into it, reaching for the ceiling again. Something popped deep in the seat.
“Shoo, Kyoko. Get up.” I waved my arms halfheartedly.
Kyoko raised her stubby tail.
“Oh, shit!” My knee slipped, and I fell half to the floor. Something made the flapping sound of a Whoopee Cushion. “Did she just—”
The fumes of her fart hit me like a slap. I coughed and crumpled completely under the dash, burrowing my nose in my elbow.
“Was that you?” Hudson asked.
I gaped at his innocent expression, then clamped my mouth shut.
Hudson hit a button on his armrest and both our windows zipped down; then he cracked the next set of windows. Hot air swirled through the cabin, whipping my hair into my eyes. Car exhaust had never smelled so good.
When I glanced up at Hudson, his eyes were crinkled at the corners. The Monopoly board apparitions were gone, replaced by an enormous fluffy white cloud with false rays of sun shining through it, haloing Hudson’s upper body.
“Are you laughing?” I shouted above the freeway noise. This wasn’t funny. Kyoko had ruined this rental.
Hudson’s lips twitched; then he broke into a full-face grin. Panic leaked from my limbs and I became aware of my sprawl. I yanked my skirt down from my waist to cover my thighs and shoved myself back into my seat, glowered at everything, including the van of teenage boys who had slowed down to stare at me.
“Did I flash them, too?” I asked, not meeting Hudson’s eyes.
“Only when you had your ass in the air. Since then, it’s been just me.”
Tiny Glitches: A Magical Contemporary Romance Page 5
